


Adopt A Scene

by BritomartKnightOfValor



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV), The Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: Demon Summoning, F/M, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 06:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BritomartKnightOfValor/pseuds/BritomartKnightOfValor
Summary: This is going to be a series of scenes/plot bunnies I love but can't seem to make work. Feel free to steal and drop me a line with what you've done with them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This little bunny is about Aziraphale attracting the attentions of a serial killer. 
> 
> It's about highlighting how vulnerable the Angel and Demon can be when all they have is their own side.
> 
> If you want to adopt it, go right ahead

Drugged. He tasted the word on his tongue. He had been drugged. Whatever it was had to be potent stuff, he could barely open his eyes before they drifted shut again.

He had been in the bookshop all day, gone home to water and yell at his plants, run into that guy who had been mooning over Aziraphale, in the lobby of his apartment building... 

He couldn't think... And if he couldn't think, then he couldn't purge the toxins from his system. And it was wearing off far too slowly.

"Angel?" He licked his dry lips and called out, hoping that his counterpart could hear him. His voice was harsh and low, his demonic energy trying to make up his vessel's shortcomings. It unsettled him enough that he didn't call out again. 

But there were footsteps anyways, and a smell that was not his Angel. It was madness, spice, obsession and black pepper...the idiot from the bookshop. The one Aziraphale said gave him the creeps but puts up with him because he doesn't try to buy anything.

"You are a resilient one aren't you." A hand caressed his face, fingertips running along lips and cheekbones. "Resilient and so beautiful. Pity Ezra likes you so much..." The same hand went up and tangled in his hair, pulling harshly so Crowley has no choice but to move his head, stretching his neck up to try to ease the pain. A moan escaped his lips.

The fingers released his hair and went back to lazily tracing the contours of the Demon's face. "I can't bring myself to just get rid of you, not like the others..." The hand retreated, leaving Crowley with the sensation of having dust all over his face that he couldn't get off. "But I can't keep you here...good for bodies, not much else. Need a place to keep you quiet and comfortable."

There was the sound of a bottle clinking and a sickeningly sweet smell that wafted through the air.

Crowley didn't need to breathe, pity that was he had been on Earth for so long that it was almost impossible to remember. The cloth covered his mouth and nose and he breathed in. There was no strength in his limbs to fight and soon he went back to floating, old memories and dreams of fire.


	2. Overshadowed

That night, about 7 bottles of wine past midnight, they got into a row about... actually the demon had gotten very confused about what was happening about the time Aziraphale tried to smite him. The Angel looked at him, eyes blazing with silver light and shouted "Et erit lux!" while throwing his hand towards the demon. 

A bright light flew from his hand like a half exploded grenade and sailed towards the Demon's face. Crowley ducked and threw himself left and to the floor, falling sideways onto his wrist. He felt a snap but ignored in favor of mostly dodging the Holy Energy. It hit the bookshelves instead and the blowback of the shelf exploding next to him sent him tumbling in the opposite direction. Shards of wood charged with Grace tore into him with the force of a shotgun blast and the power of the miracle deafened and blinded him. He couldn't hold back a scream of pain and then a much softer curse.

There was a moment where he just existed breathing through the agony, blinking to try and restore his vision. Aziraphale and he locked eyes as soon as he could see more than dark shapes, the Angel's gaze wide and startled but there was a feral twinge to his eyes. This was not his Angel, at least not entirely. He could see something like a shadow covering Aziraphale's face.

Crowley scrambled to get up, legs wanting to give out on him and his knee screaming at him to stop moving it. For the first time in all the years they had known each other Crowley ran from Aziraphale, he had never, ever been afraid of him before. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale called after him, voice shaking with confusion and fear. "Crowley!"

It wasn't until he was a few blocks from the shop before he even realized how badly he was hurt. Blood dripped from his face and shoulder, a few deep gashes from wood charged with Divine Wrath. Another one was lodged in his right side and that would bleed later but he was not going to try to pull it out until he got home. He left a trail of blood droplets behind him.

He forgot to take the Bentley, and wasn't really sure how he even got to his flat. He may have managed a minor miracle but he wasn't sure. His mind was having a very trippy conversation with the unicorn that ran off before the flood and thus could not be trusted to tell him how he got to his destination.

By the time he got inside however, the world had become a Merry Go Round spinning maddenly around him. His clothes were heavily soaked with black demon blood, so much so that it was pooling in one of his shoes, running in rivets down his skin and sodden clothing alike. A human would have been dead three blocks from the bookshop. He passed out a few steps from the couch.


	3. Chapter 3

"Dad it's Adam." The nine year old tried not to cry on the phone, biting his lip to try and control the waterworks.

"What's wrong?" His Father's voice was sharp but didn't seem angry. He was in the Bentley, Adam could hear the Queen blaring through the speakers, not daring to drown out his Father's voice.

Adam took a deep breath "I got in a bit of a fight...they want you to come down to the office."  
Crowley sighed. "Did you watch your form?"  
"Not really..." Adam's arm ached where he had tried to defend himself, his Father's hand to hand lessons had all been forgotten in his panic.  
Dad growled, still not sounding mad at his son."Did you break something?"  
"I'm not sure." He was...it hurt badly enough.  
"Nurse Molly checked you out?" Adam felt the shift as the subtle sense of his Father moved from London to right outside the school.  
Adam shook his head knowing that his Father couldn't see. "No...just been sitting here."  
"Be there in five. Hope you have everything you need because we are going to London for the rest of the week." It was only Monday.  
Adam nodded. "Okay see you soon."

Adam's Dad was the only single parent in Tadfield and it was the general opinion of the entire Year Five that he was the coolest parent that ever existed.

He entered the school like a foreign power surging into a defenseless country, long red hair braided away from his face like a Viking and an expensive suit all black, red and silk, striding along on snakeskin boots. A pair of expensive sunglasses hid his eyes from view.

"Anthony, Anthony!" Miss Molly raced from her office to catch up with him. "They won't send Adam down to my office to get checked out. I think he hurt his arm when Warlock went after him." She had to sprint to keep up with the tall man's walk.

Mr. Crowley slowed and spared her a frown. "Warlock? Oh for Hell's sake...why can't he leave my boy alone?" His handsome face twisted in disgust.

Molly shook her head. "Jealousy mostly...all Warlock wants is for his father to notice him...while Adam has everything he thinks he lacks."

Anthony stopped for a second and gave her the same confused look he did everytime she had ever given him a compliment. But they were right in front of the office and he recovered quickly. Crowley swept right Mrs Downing, Warlock and the Headmaster and kneeled in front of the chair where Adam was sitting. 

The boy was still fighting back tears, holding one of his arms close to his chest. His father gentle touched the side of his face and the pain drained out of him.   
The relief was so welcome that a sob escaped him and he threw himself forward, hiding his face in the crook of Crowley's neck. Deceptively strong arms wrapped around him and lifted him off the chair. "Hold on with your legs boy." He muttered into Adam's hair before giving him a soft kiss on the side of his face.  
To the headmaster he spared a single menacing smile and the words "You won't work here anymore come Monday." Then he strode out.


	4. The One With The Wizard

"So how do I get rid of you? I mean, I appreciate the help...and the fact you paid all my bills but I'm sure you have things to do and places to be." Harry wasn't sure what to make of the Demon he had met the day before...but he didn't act like any occult creature that Harry had ever met. 

The Demon nodded from where he leaned bonelessly against the kitchen table. In front of him was what smelled like dinner but Harry had no idea where it came from. "Indeed I do but I literally cannot provide that information...but I know someone who can help." 

He slid the plate across the table towards the wizard. "Eat, I cannot harm you while you hold my binding and it's normal food, cooked it and everything."

Harry decided to risk it. "Who do you know that can help, a wizard?" It was steak and potatoes and it was fantastic. He let out a little groan of pleasure and the Demon gave him a fond look.

"Angel actually, with the most extensive book collection since the Library of Alexandria."

Harry nearly choked."An Angel?"

The Demon grinned. "Aziraphale, Guardian Of The East Gate, Principality of the United Kingdoms. A bit of a bastard in all the right ways..." His tone was fond but then he stopped talking, his serpantine eyes going unfocused. He looked exhausted.

Harry waved his hand in front of the Demon's face. "You still with me...?"

He shook his head as if to clear it and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, bit knackered. It's never fun being summoned much less defying compulsion and giving a wizard my Name to bind me..." It sounded like a more simple ordeal than it actually was...Harry could feel the weight of the bond between them, the power he wielded and the pain that the Demon had been in when Harry had wrenched control of the Demon away from the witches with his true Name.

Harry still wasn't sure why the Demon had defied his orders to kill the wizard and given him such power over the ancient creature...but he did appreciate it. "You can sleep for a while if you need."

"I'm liable to sleep for a week, and we still have the sisterhood of the traveling pants after us. I wouldn't worry if it was just one of them but three witches are never anything but trouble."

The wizard nodded and finished his dinner. "Well, I need a good 12 hours. Bob can wake me up if anyone comes after us here. Why don't you sleep while I sleep and in the morning we will contact your Aziraphale."

The Demon nodded and pried himself into a standing position. "Alright Master Wizard."

"Harry..." 

The Demon nodded. "Master Harry, you can call me Crowley. I prefer as few people as possible know the name I gave you yesterday."

The Name ran through Harry's being, a word beyond language, beyond time, ancient and powerful. Crowley was just an echo of that. "Alright. Did you need something to sleep in or to use the shower?"

The Demon shook his head. "Maybe shower in the morning...but if I may have your leave to manifest new clothing and necessities as necessary?"

"I grant you leave."

"My thanks... Harry."

"You are welcome...I am sorry about all this."

"You taking my leash saved both our skins."

"Still...I don't feel right about it."

"A very rare wizard aren't you? Now hurry up and go to sleep, I am going to replace all your furniture."


	5. Parol

"Crowley!" Lucifer called over one of the newer bartenders, Chloe had first seen him about a year before.

The redhead finished pouring the beers on the ticket before wiping his hands on a bar towel and heading over to the corner where the detective and Lucifer sat.

"Boss?" His accent was British but less formal than Lucifer's soft one.

Lucifer motioned for him to sit next to him and he obeyed with only a slight hesitation. "You up to date with the latest disaster?"

"Hard not to be, all things considered." Crowley was wearing sunglasses even in the dark of the bar but he slid them down his nose slightly whenever he talked to Lucifer. "I suppose Amenadiel didn't tell you who defused the bomb?"

"No he didn't and I'm not even going to ask where you learned to do that...so a belated thank you is in order. Also two weeks off and a plane ticket to London if you do me a favor."

Crowley grinned, a wide grin with too many teeth and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Not like I could tell you no, even without an offer like that. Angel is going to be thrilled."

Lucifer smiled, almost softly. "Despite the danger Chloe wants to go home..."

Crowley looked away from his boss and at Chloe, tilting his head more so glowing, golden eyes were clearly visible."Want me to play guardian demon?"

Lucifer smiled wickedly, "Exactly. Chloe this is my brother Crowley, he tends to work in the background because he hates every single moment he spends in LA and there really isn't a celestial or occultic creature above or below that doesn't want him dead.."

"Officially I am on 500 years probation...currently have 499 years to go. Nice to officially meet you after spending so long shadowing your shifts. I will go get my coat." He peeled himself out of the booth and headed towards the employee closet.

"He's what?" Chloe looked at Lucifer.

"Crowley is an excellent lurker and unlike me he loses now of his potency while you are near. And it gets him out of the bar." The Devil smirked. "He is easier to get along with than Amenadiel but he is very upset about being kept away from his Angel."

Chloe gave him a Stern look."We are going to talk about this later...Why is he on parol?"

"He saved the world and drowning him in Holy Water didn't work."


	6. Divine ecstasy

He had turned to stalk off towards the Bentley, Aziraphale's 'I Forgive You' bashing itself around in his head. It was almost painful thing to hear, though not on par with "I don't even like you' and 'You go too fast for me." It joined all the other words from the Angel that lived in his chest and replayed themselves over and over in his dreams.

But the Angel caught him by the wrist and yanked him back towards him, pulsing just enough Divine Grace into him to put him off balance.

Crowley's head went fuzzy, and up and down decided to become difficult concepts. He didn't fight when Aziraphale tugged him into the bookshop. Aziraphale locked the door behind them. Panic was clear on his face. The usually passive side of the Angel had gone on mental holiday. Maybe the sane part of the angel had checked out due to pure stress. 

Crowley found himself wondering what had happened since their disastrous conversation at the gazebo. His skin buzzed where Aziraphale was holding him fast and the sensation just increased when the Angel pushed Crowley up against the door, pinning him in place with a hand against his chest and knee pressed between his legs. Aziraphale released his wrist and placed the other fluttering hand against Crowley's cheek.

"Aziraphale...what are you?" He gasped, trying to pull his thoughts together. Divine energy, soft but overwhelming flowed from Aziraphale to Crowley, fogging his wits and turning his bones to liquid. It hurt but it felt so much better, 

It was something they had discovered years ago while drunk when Aziraphale had been explaining Divine Ecstasy and some confusion with a Nun. It had led to 8 hours of unconsciousness and a few very awkward meetings later.

"Shh, shh my dear. I will take care of everything."

But he wasn't drunk now and Aziraphale wasn't just holding his hand. There was a deliberateness to this, a domination, an ownership to this as Crowley arked off the wall; the pleasure and pain mounting. If he could get two brain cells together he would have savored it.  
His head fell forward as he peaked, shuddering in the Angel's arms. He collapsed bonelessly against Aziraphale, his vision starting to go dark and fuzzy at the edges.

"I can fix this." Aziraphale was muttering. "I can fix this but I can't have you running all across the Galaxy. You need to be where I can find you, where I can keep you safe. I just need to talk to the Almighty."


	7. Shaky Hands

Crowley held it back, arms outstretched and hand trembling. The heat of the roaring flame poured into him and away from the figures behind him, five pale humans exhausted sitting against the rocks that a half hour ago had halted their flight towards safety.

They should have been dead, several times over all things considered. It had been a day of barely evaded fate. Adam knew that the Demon protecting them had run out of energy hours ago when the Angel and he had fought, run out of power when they faced the Duke of Hell and was now running on will and will alone.

The blaze of the forest was dying down, it's fuel exhausted and it's energy stolen. Adam put his hand on Crowley's back. He could feel that the trembling in his hands continued into his back.

"Dad! Dad! Let go! It's burned down enough now. We will be ok!" He spoke but would tell that Crowley was past hearing. He tried to gather his own abilities but couldn't concentrate. He was strung out, exhausted and too worried to risk doing more harm to his Father. So he settled for wrapping his arms around him, pulling those tense, desperately shaking arms down. He made shhhing noises like Crowley used to make when Adam would wake up with nightmares.

When Crowley finally stopped pulling, he went down like a puppet with its strings cut. Adam dropped in a more controlled manner, guiding them both to the ground.

"Anyone still got their phone?" He looked up at the others, pulling his father close to his chest just to feel him still breathing. To sense the energy feebly coursing under the skin. 

Anathema, Newt, Madam Tracy and Mister Shadwell all blinked at him in various stages of shock and soot. 

"Is he ok?" The older woman was the first to collect herself. She knelt down and checked Crowley's temperature with the inside of her wrist.

"I don't think so Mrs. Shadwell." Adam shook his head, feeling much younger than his sixteen years. "He's been pulling today out of his hat, so to speak, and I don't think he has anything left."

"If only Aziraphale hadn't chickened out on us today." She lamented with a hint of fury in her bright face. She took one of Crowley's hands in two of her own.

"It could be hours before the forest service finds us. I think that other demon..." Anathema started dumping out her purse. 

"Hastur." Adam provided.

The witch took it in stride and kept going through what fell from her bag. "I think Hastur is gone but I don't think Crowley could stand up to an imp right now."

"What are you looking for sweetheart?" New whispered, coming alive next.

"I completely forgot earlier but remember Aziraphale gave me that vial, the one with that tiny feather in it? Score!" She found it just as she finished describing it. "He said to use it in dire need..."

"Use it how dear?" Madam Tracy looked at it, such a little thing but she could sense the power in it. There had been some perks to sharing a form with the angel.

Anathema's face sank. "He neglected to say."

"Sounds like Uncle Ezra." Adam sighed and freed one of his hands. "Give it here." He flapped his hand in a gesture very reminiscent of his Father.

The Witch handed it over without argument. "You know how it works?"

"No. But its energy, I know what to do with that." Adam smashed it off the ground and spoke. "Aziraphale Guardian of The East Gate. Attend me!" His voice rang out like a bell, not a call but a command.

There was a sound that was more of a lack of sound, a sensation like a hiccup in reverse and the awol member of their hiking group was suddenly standing a few steps away from the group on the charred ground. He glanced around, still bringing all his awareness into his new location. "Really Adam that was most uncomfortable." His eyes glowed their brilliant blue.

"I hope it stung like Hellfire you overgrown turkey." Adam hissed, eyes glowing red. "Now get over here and make yourself useful." 

"Oh my God...what happened?"

That was the moment Crowley's vessel decided it wasn't sure what to make all of the day's events and started to convulsion.


	8. Untouchable

"I told you that we would be able to find a way to hurt you Fell." Thomas Mason invited himself to sit down at Aziraphale's table at the coffee shop as he waited for a fresh batch of pastries.   
Aziraphale stiffened but gave the crime boss a tight smile. "Thomas... To what do I owe the pleasure?" He took a sip of his tea, the water heated too hot for it to be truly enjoyable.  
A dark mustache twisted over scared lips, true malevolent joy making what could have been an attractive face almost impossible to look at. "I had almost given up hope. You are never seen with friends, never with a lover more than once, don't own anything that isn't in your shop...I was wondering if I would ever see the day you had an anchor to the world."  
The Angel's stomach flipped uncomfortably. The sheer ill will being directed at him was staggering. "I assume you are getting to the point? I have to get back to my shop." He wished he had just stayed with Crowley at the shop and not wanted to get something special for them to eat.  
"Your shop and that mysterious red-head Sam had seen hanging around the least six months?"  
Oh...so they were being followed. He owed Crowley two bottles of brandy. "Red-head? Do you mean Crowley? Sam has seen him once a week for the last decade. He is one of my sources for rare books."  
"Oh come now Fell." Thomas tutted and shook his head. "He always went home before. You never stayed at his apartment before. Sometimes he doesn't leave your place for days now, comes out wearing clothing he wasn't wearing the night before. He watches the shop for you when you step out to get him those cherry tarts they bake here, one of the few things Sam says he has seen him eat."  
As Thomas spoke, Aziraphale got more and more flushed as his temper reached the point at which things tended to explode. "Are we still getting to the point?"  
The crime boss looked at his watch. "Better hurry home Ezra. Frank should be done by now."  
The coffee machine caught on fire and no one saw Aziraphale reach over the table and dragged Thomas out of his chair and over the very hot tea and coffee. "What have you done?!" His eyes were more than a tad too bright and he wasn't sure how many of them he had at the moment but he was sure it was more than two.


	9. No water pistol

Warlock squeaked, jam hitting him in the eye, and pulled the trigger.   
The bullet hit Crowley, who had been looking out the window, trying to see if there was a huge black dog in the garden. It impacted his lower right side and went right through, smashing the window on the way out. The Demon left out a shout that was more surprised than pained and slid to his knees. The crisp white of his waiter's jacket was turning scarlet at an alarming rate.  
Aziraphale dodged a cake thrown in his direction and clicked his fingers. All of the children sat down on the floor and sat very still, all of their parents stared off, glassy-eyed, into space. He threw himself off the embryonic stage and towards where the Demon sat, arms wrapped around the exit wound, swearing in languages long dead.  
"Crowley!" He knelt next to Crowley, putting his hand over the entry wound on the Demon's back. The blood gushed hot.  
Crowley was starting to slip forward, unable even to keep himself on his knees. "Get usssss out of here, Angel." He ground out, losing control of his sibilants.  
Aziraphale swept him up in a bridal carry and marched them out of the mansion and to the Bentley. He laid the Demon flat on the cement next to the car, tearing at the jacket and shirt Crowley wore until he could see the ugly wounds. He sucked in a horrified breath.  
"Closssssse it," Crowley demanded, teeth gritted against the pain. He didn't look at Aziraphale, kept his gaze pointed towards the sky. At some point, they had lost his sunglasses.  
Aziraphale shook his head. He knew what the Serpent was asking, but he didn't want to think about it. "Crowley, you know I can't heal this."  
Crowley hissed. "Don't play stupid. I didn't say heal; I said closssse it."  
"Crowley." It came out as more of a whine than Aziraphale intended.  
"Do it, Angel. We don't have time."  
Aziraphale gathered Crowley up in his arms. He put one hand on the front exit wound and another on the back entrance wound and pulse searing hot divine energy into the skin. Any other hellion subjected to this amount of divine power would have been dis-corporated, some of the lesser ones would have been destroyed. On Crowley, it seared into his skin like hot iron, cauterizing the flow of blood.  
Crowley screamed and writhed in his grasp. The moment he released the energy flow, Crowley went limp like a puppet with its strings cut. He lay in Aziraphale's arms, just breathing in ragged sobbing gasps. "You...you will have to drive." He finally managed. "We had the wrong boy." He tried to claw himself into a sitting position, but the Angel didn't even have to struggle to hold him still.  
"Don't worry about that right now." He said soothingly. "I'll get us back to the bookshop. It would be best if you had a bit of a lie-down. You could still dis-corporate, you've lost a lot of hemoglobin."  
Crowley shook his head and tried again to sit up. His pupils were blown wide with pain. "Won't be a bookshop if we can't figure this out. Won't be anything."  
Aziraphale shook his head, his stomach all tied in a knot. He had done an outstanding job of not considering many things. Now was not the time to upset that. "Sleep, my dear boy." He breathed the compulsion into the weakened Demon, who could only fight it for a split second before those sun-yellow eyes slipped shut the rest of the way.


End file.
